


Sleeping through

by Trojie



Series: Trojie's Pornathon Entries 2013 [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Consensual Somnophilia, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:55:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin's a heavy sleeper. Arthur isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping through

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Round Four of the Merlin Summerpornathon (Banging Bedframes and Slumbering Sluts). Somnophilia, mildly dubious consent but subsequent enthusiastic participation.

Merlin's a heavy sleeper. Arthur isn't. And Arthur, much as he might like to deny it because he somehow thinks it lessens his manliness, is a cuddler, tactile, seeks comfort in touch when something has awoken him - some panic or paranoia or nightmare. And so, when Merlin wakes in the early hours of the morning or in the middle of the night, it is often like this - with Arthur wrapped around him, his hand playing about Merlin's cock, drawing it to hardness almost unconsciously, his own nestled in the small of Merlin's back while he ruts. 

Arthur's gentle - gentle enough that Merlin can float in that dreamlike state between awake and asleep, and enjoy the warmth, the way he's cradled, the humming arousal curling around him from his fingers and toes and along his arms and legs, thrumming in his blood while Arthur's hand coaxes him to push back and forth. Merlin's eyes are closed, he almost wants this to be a dream, because it would be such a nice one, and he almost does fall back to sleep, until Arthur behind him moves, settles lower, and his cock slides down between Merlin's thighs - hot, slick-sticky, and undeniably of the real, waking world. 

Merlin moans, startled, starts to come to properly. But Arthur's hand on his cock is an anchor, stops him from jerking awake, and Arthur's hips hitch with a rhythm that's so familiar it quiets him.

Merlin is weighted down by blankets and quilts, and he knows from the prickling of the tip of his nose and the shells of his ears that it's cold outside the bed, but Arthur is a furnace, comforting and soothing, and the way they start to rock together is drugging, drowsing, all on its own. The wakefulness Merlin felt starts to ease again with Arthur's long-drawn out breaths at the nape of his neck, the wetness between Merlin's thighs growing as Arthur slicks himself through eagerness and stimulation.

Merlin could fall asleep like this, cradled and warm and cared for. 

Arthur's chest rises and falls against Merlin's back, though, and his breathing against Merlin's skin has turned to helpless kisses, has turned to the edge of teeth, and Merlin holds himself in and still and unresponsive except to how Arthur moves him, because as much as he loves this loose-limbed feeling he knows Arthur loves it _more_ \- loves that Merlin will let him do this, loves that Merlin feels safe enough with him that he doesn't even wake up when Arthur starts to need him like this, late at night and desperate. 

Even when Arthur's hand grows tight, insistent, urges Merlin to climax faster and faster, even when Arthur's hips shove, when his cock rides the soft skin of Merlin's bollocks with the burning heat of his leaking slit, even when Arthur's teeth stop being a sharp, shivery edge of _maybe_ and become a bite, fastened like an anchor above the highest knob of bone in Merlin's spine, Merlin still flops and floats, still takes it, because he's riding it like a wave and the hum of arousal is a buzz and a burn deep inside him now. 

He needs this. He needs Arthur to need him. 

He needs to come.

Arthur is shaking now, pushing and pushing and pushing until Merlin can hear the wooden frame of the bed creaking below them, and when Arthur lets go Merlin bites his lip against a whimper and does the same, unable to hang on any longer, and between them they are a mess, but they are a warm, sated mess.

That is probably extremely apt, Merlin thinks dozily. 

Arthur settles after that, still with Merlin wrapped in his arms, and he nuzzles and licks at the place he bit absently while his breathing evens out, and he slips towards sleep.

Merlin is almost completely under again when Arthur murmurs ' _God_ I love you,' in his ear.


End file.
